In Good Hands
by Aini NuFire
Summary: An away mission gone awry leaves Bones bleeding out in Jim's arms.


**A/N: Based on some fanart on tumblr, which zonya35 asked if I could write a fic for. I really wish ff allowed for links. -_-**

 **Anyway, characters aren't mine, yada yada. Thank you 29Pieces for beta reading! XD**

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"In Good Hands"

"Find anything, Spock?"

"Yes, Captain. The mineral compounds in the silt have an unusual structure that I have not come across before. I suggest collecting some samples to take back to the ship."

Jim waved a bored hand. "Have at it."

He roved his gaze over the adobe colored desert, barren save for some large rock formations. The hot temperature was bearable, but the deep orange shade of the sky made it seem like the planet could be on fire. There also didn't seem to be any indigenous populations, which made this away mission more on the tedious side for Jim, but it was nice to get off the ship and grab a breath of- well, not fresh so much as not recycled air.

Too bad the third member of their party didn't agree.

"Just like a hot Georgia summer, hey Bones?"

"Georgia isn't a desert," McCoy retorted, his perpetual scowl deepening. That never deterred Jim.

"Georgia's worse. All that humidity."

"No unknown alien pathogens."

"Just mosquitoes carrying all other kinds of disease."

"Well at least those I know how to treat."

Jim rolled his eyes, but it was good-naturedly. Bones might have been a crotchety SOB, but Kirk wouldn't have his CMO any other way.

"Why don't you help Spock collect those samples," he suggested.

"And what exactly are you gonna do?" McCoy rejoined.

Jim shrugged. "What our mission statement says we do—explore."

"Jim, if you go and find trouble on this hell hole, I swear—"

"Hey, that hurts."

"Not as much as a stay in sickbay is going to."

Jim just shook his head as he sauntered off.

There really wasn't much to see. Some red dunes over there. Some prickly cactus-like trees over here. Sunsets were probably spectacular, but they weren't staying that long. Jim ascended one of the dunes to get a better vantage point. Everything was in shades of crimson, vermillion, and ocher.

Movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention to where some clay dirt seemed to be shifting. Jim squinted. Was a sinkhole opening up? It was difficult to tell with the dark shades, but he thought he saw deep red appendages rise up from the ground. And then he spotted a second shifting of soil a little further away. With Bones and Spock right between them.

Jim caught a glimpse of spindly legs and pinchers skittering across the ground before he was off and running down the dune and shouting a warning. Spock and Bones looked up, and Jim gestured frantically with one hand while he drew his phaser with the other. By then, the massive creatures had shed most of their clay coating and Jim was able to see an almost shiny layer of chitin exoskeleton the deep shade of carmine.

Spock had drawn his weapon as well and was firing at the one on his left, so Jim aimed for the other. He didn't see a third arthropod coming up behind McCoy until the five-foot-long beast snapped its tail up in a high arch. Bones whirled at the last second, but the stinger still plunged into his side. He went down with a cry and the giant scorpion jabbed one of its pinchers at his neck.

"Bones!" Jim fired as he ran. His phaser blasts hit the creature with enough of a jolt to make it flinch and reel back. But they weren't disabling. Jim dialed up the intensity and shot again.

This time, the animal squealed and collapsed onto its back, its legs curling up and twitching. The other two shrieked in response and skittered away. Jim made it to Bones just as Spock did, the two of them dropping down next to the injured doctor. McCoy was gasping as he tried to clutch at his shoulder where blood was pumping out through several punctures. The wound in his side was also quickly soaking his uniform.

Jim whipped out his communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise, emergency beam out."

"Capta'n, what's goin' on?" Scotty's voice returned. "I can no' get a lock on your signals. There's a dozen others on top of ya."

Jim froze and whipped his gaze around as he suddenly became aware of the sifting soil. Not on top of them— _under_ them.

"We need to move." He grabbed at McCoy's arm and started to haul him up. Bones could barely stand, but with Spock's help, they were able to drag McCoy away from the emerging serkets. Jim kept glancing over his shoulder, but the creatures seemed more intent on converging on the one that was dead. For now.

He and Spock headed for the large rock formation, half carrying Bones between them. Once they were on solid shale where they wouldn't be surprised by scorpions rising up from beneath them, Jim sank to the ground with McCoy collapsing against him.

"Bones."

McCoy was limp, half of his tunic now soaked in dark stains. Jim felt the dampness starting to seep through his shirt as well. He reached up to clap a hand around the wound in McCoy's neck and opened his communicator again. "Scotty!"

"Gimme a moment, Captain. I'm havin' trouble gettin' a lock. There's some kinda interference."

"The mineral deposits are more dense in the rock formations," Spock put in as he bunched up the bottom of McCoy's shirt and pressed it to the wound in his side. Bones let out a weak grunt of pain, but otherwise didn't rouse.

Jim almost threw the communicator. "Dammit!" They couldn't go back out to the sand where those scorpions were waiting, and who knew how many more underneath the surface. "Why didn't the sensors detect those things before we came down here?" he demanded.

"The mineral deposits must have concealed their life signs," Spock replied. "Perhaps they were in a dormant state."

Jim set the communicator down and reached for McCoy's medical bag, which was still slung across his other shoulder. Working it open with one hand, he rifled through the contents frantically, picking up a hypospray and giving it a dubious look. He didn't know which vial was which.

"Bones, hey, I need you to wake up and tell me which one to use."

Bones lolled his head against Jim's shoulder, but didn't respond. His pallor had turned sickly grey, as most of his color had leeched out with the bright red staining all three of their uniforms.

"McCoy!" Jim shouted, using his captain voice, but that didn't get him an answer. Not that it usually did with Bones.

Spock didn't say anything, but his lips were pressed into a thin line, and he was now holding both fists against McCoy's abdomen in an effort to staunch the bleeding.

"One more minute, Captain," Scotty's voice crackled through the communicator.

"We don't have a minute, Scotty!"

He clamped his hand tighter around McCoy's neck, blood squelching between his fingers. "Stay with me, Bones."

A few seconds later, he felt the tingle of particles dematerializing as the energy conversion manifested in swirling gold lights. Jim sucked in a breath and held it as he prayed for this to work.

The harsh desert atmosphere faded to black, and the next thing Jim saw was the familiar cool walls of sickbay taking shape around him. The moment they fully rematerialized, the med staff converged on them. Jim reluctantly relinquished McCoy to their care, watching worriedly as Bones was lifted onto a stretcher and carried to a patient alcove.

"What happened?" Dr. M'Benga asked with terse urgency.

"He was attacked by an unknown arthropod-like creature," Spock answered.

"Giant scorpion, Spock," Jim put in.

"Scorpion?" M'Benga repeated. "Did it have a stinger?"

"Yes."

M'Benga snapped an order to one of the nurses. "Check for venom."

Jim's heart gave a jolt. _Venom?_

The rest of the doctor's orders and flurry of activity faded to white noise in Jim's ears. Every few heartbeats, the monitors would sound an alarm and more commands would follow. Jim couldn't help but think it should be him lying there. It was always him. Brave, reckless, Jim Kirk. Not Bones. Never Bones.

"Jim," Spock's quiet voice spoke in his ear, and a gentle yet firm hand touched his arm. He let himself be led away, but only because he knew better than to get in the way of the medical staff.

He slumped into the chair behind McCoy's desk and started to put his head in his hands, only to realize they were covered in blood. Jim gave a start as he looked down at his uniform. Both he and Spock looked like extras out of a classic Earth horror film.

Jim quickly stood again and went to clean his hands in the sterilizer. "You should go change, Spock," he said.

Spock hesitated for only a split second before inclining his head and turning to leave.

Jim scrubbed his hands clean of blood and then went to resume his seat to wait. He tried not to focus on the bloodstains down his shirt, but he didn't want to leave in order to change. Not until he knew whether Bones would… No, Bones would be _fine_. He may have been the best doctor Jim knew, but his medical staff was no B-team. They'd fix him up and he'd be back to complaining in no time.

Jim waited anxiously for news, but hadn't gotten any by the time Spock returned, dressed in a change of clothes. His First Officer was carrying a pile of neatly folded pants and gold shirt, which he held out to Jim.

Jim's shoulders sagged, and he gave Spock a small smile of gratitude and fondness. "Thanks, Spock."

There was a shower room in the back where Jim went to change out of his soiled uniform. He knew the bloodstains would come off, but he couldn't help feeling like he just wanted to burn this set.

When he returned, Spock was standing attentively, gaze fixed on the surgical bay as though he could see through the walls. Jim took to pacing. He wasn't used to this side of the waiting game.

Finally, Dr. M'Benga emerged from the surgical bay, the sleeves of his operating scrubs rolled up to his elbows.

"He's stable," the man reported. "And there was no trace of foreign compounds in his bloodstream, so we didn't have to worry about counteracting any venom. He lost a lot of blood, though."

"But he'll be okay?" Jim asked.

M'Benga nodded. "I anticipate a full recovery."

Jim let out a long breath of relief. "Can we see him?"

"He's being transferred to a bed for monitoring," M'Benga replied. "You can see him in a couple minutes." With that, the doctor headed back to his patient.

Jim turned to Spock. "I'm gonna stay. I know you probably want to start on that mission report."

Spock was silent for a moment before replying, "I can write my report from here as well as anywhere else."

Jim's mouth quirked. "Mr. Spock, you big softie."

The vulcan arched a single eyebrow, but didn't deign to respond to that.

Bones was brought out to one of the corner alcoves and transferred to the patient bed. This time the life sign monitors beeped with a steady stream of lines and blips. McCoy's color was slightly better, too, but he was still pale. That should improve from the blood transfusion currently being injected through an IV line in one arm.

Jim settled in a chair by the bed, Spock on the other side.

"Guess you didn't get those mineral samples," Jim said after a while.

"That is of no consequence. While they would have made for interesting study, my curiosity is not so insatiable that we need return to the planet for them."

Jim was thankful for that.

The hours ticked on and Jim started to feel drowsy. The monotonous rhythm of the vital sign monitors wasn't helping, and he drifted off a few times. Spock's voice softly calling his name woke him at some point, and he sat up abruptly just as McCoy's eyelids started to flutter open.

"Bones?" Jim reached out to squeeze his hand.

Bones blinked blearily a few times before his glazed eyes began to focus. "J'm?"

Kirk flashed him his best boyish smile. "There you are, lazy Bones."

McCoy squeezed his eyes shut and grumbled, "Why are you so chipper?"

"Because I managed to come out of an away mission without injury. You owe me a bottle of Saurian brandy."

"I don't remember that bet," he groused, then groaned.

Jim sobered. "How are you feeling?" he asked seriously.

McCoy pried his eyes open again and glanced down at himself, but the sheet was covering most of the bandages, save for the one around his neck and shoulder. "Like something tried to use me as a pin cushion."

Jim cocked his head. "Eh, you're not far off. But M'Benga says you're gonna make a full recovery."

Bones flicked his gaze from Jim to Spock. "You two all right?"

"The captain and I were not injured," Spock replied.

"Small favors." His face scrunched up and he winced.

Nurse Chapel appeared with a hypospray in hand. "Something for the pain," she said with a warm smile for her boss. "And don't try denying you need it; those monitors don't lie."

Jim perked up. "Can I give it to him?"

McCoy shot him a startled glower. "Why on earth would you ask that?"

"So you can see how painful those things are."

"Don't be such a baby," Bones scowled.

"You still gonna say that after I jab it into your neck?"

"The only people administering medication are trained medical personnel," Chapel interrupted.

"I don't—hey!" McCoy jerked back as Christine injected the hypospray into the side of his neck that wasn't injured.

Jim smirked. "Told you those hurt."

"Christine," Bones said warningly.

"Doctor's orders."

" _I'm_ a doctor."

Chapel gave him a gentle pat on his arm. "I'll replicate some soup for you."

"I'm fine. Just let me sleep," he muttered, sinking back against the pillow as the drugs took effect.

Jim's amusement faltered for a moment as he remembered how close this had been. He always counted on Bones to patch him back up after missions gone wrong, not the other way around. But Bones was going to be okay. No matter the role reversal, Jim knew he could still depend on his crew, his friends, to be there for him and each other.

With the medical staff in the next room and Spock's unwavering presence beside him, Jim could relax in the confidence that they were all in good hands.


End file.
